Chapter 72

Bell placed the soup, which had been resting on his knees, on the ground and left their location, as if being chased by something.

Nausea churned inside him, filling him completely, and it felt as though something would constantly leak from his mouth.

Bell quickly walked towards the back of the barracks, concealing himself in the forest thick with rotting trees.

The boy gave Bell, who had abruptly risen from his seat, a strange look.

Grisha, in turn, simply pleaded with the boy to understand Bell, a mournful note in his voice.

“Gaaahk!”

Hidden behind the decaying trees, Bell urgently expelled what had risen up.

Having eaten nothing for over thirty hours, Bell’s vomit was almost entirely clear. Vomiting pure gastric acid made his throat sting fiercely.

“Hiss, ptui.”

Bell spat a few more times to clear his mouth.

He couldn’t even properly grasp why this sudden wave of sickness had erupted from within him.

“…It’s absurd.”

Bell’s left arm throbbed, jolted by a sudden, intense pain.

It hurt.

Aching, hot, and then, chilling.

Bell, surprised by this pain he’d not felt in so long, lifted his robe and stared at his bloodied arm.

Why this torment, forgotten for a time, had returned so abruptly, he couldn’t say.

“Haa.”

A sigh.

And then, a hollow laugh.

Bell laughed for what felt like forever, until he wondered if he’d finally lost his mind.

Only after that long, mad bout of laughter could Bell tear himself from the shadow of the rotting tree and return to the bonfire.

* * *

The crackle of the bonfire drying the mud mingled with the resonating strum of a thick guitar string. Calluses had yet to form on my left hand, which gripped the chords, and the pain was sharp.

As I watched the bonfire’s shadow flicker across the empty soup bowl on the ground, Bell emerged from beyond the shadow of the rotting tree, where he’d been hiding.

He returned to his place with a nonchalance as if nothing had happened, retrieving the soup bowl he’d left on the ground.

“……”

Saintess Grisha quietly took Bell’s hand, sitting beside him.

Bell stared at her hand for a moment, then turned his attention back to the soup, spooning it into his mouth.

“It’s the little things, seemingly inconsequential, that enrich our lives, isn’t it? Like a warm soup with meat… or drink, cigarettes, and music.”

Grisha said, bringing Bell’s pipe to her lips.

…Guess that means she liked the music?

“Thank you. Though I’m no connoisseur of music, I can discern a rather unique composition. Play for me again sometime.”

“…!”

Grisha’s words of gratitude widened my eyes as I stared at her.

“What is it? Did I say something odd…?”

“Right? It’s different from the usual song, isn’t it? The usual minor-key based songs tend to incorporate inversions, a build-up of the atmosphere, somewhere between fifty seconds and a minute in? But this piece doesn’t have that kind of inversion. A calm, low intro, like the subtle aroma of baking bread, continues for three minutes, and the ‘inversions’ that do appear only plant the expectation in the listener of, ‘Oh, is the atmosphere about to build up?!’ But, ultimately, it just returns to the initial sound and rhythm…”

“…”

Grisha could only blink as she listened to my explanation.

“Looks like someone likes their music.”

Bell, who had been spooning soup into his mouth, opened his mouth cynically as he watched me chatter away excitedly.

“Don’t bother Grisha too much. She’s already tired…”

“The money chord was, of course, absolutely not used. You see those hipster wannabes who give a mere ‘inversion’ of changing the chord’s fifth to a seventh and then impudently insist, ‘I didn’t use a money chord’? I’m completely different from them. If there were a piano, I could show you far more sophisticated harmonies…”

I cut Bell off and continued my explanation.

One should be grateful and just listen quietly when someone’s giving them an explanation, not show their annoyance like that.

“I’m sorry, but no matter how enthusiastically you explain, we won’t understand. We’re not music connoisseurs. Save those stories for the others…”

“It’s all right. I *am* a connoisseur.”

“…Huh?”

Bell looked at me, his expression a little blanker than usual, as if he couldn’t quite comprehend.

“You only need nod along. There’s no harm in knowing a little something about music, is there? As Grisha said, music enriches our lives.”

I cut off Bell, who seemed flustered and about to say something, and continued my explanation.

“W-Well, to be precise, so do soup and tobacco…”

“Hush! Be still!”

I cut Grisha off, launching into a torrent of explanation regarding the intent and structural nuances woven into the piece I’d just played, how it differed from ordinary music. Neither Bell nor the Saint seemed any closer to understanding, though.

…No, Saint Grisha even looked as if she slightly regretted praising my music in the first place.

But so what?

You were the ones who poked the bear. You were the ones who said you were deeply moved, remarked on its unique construction.

For the past couple of months, I hadn’t so much as uttered a word about music, let alone worked on it.

I’d been too busy just trying to survive, choking on the effort of faking genius day after day.

And when I say ‘nearly died’ here, I mean it in the literal, ‘physically almost perished’ sense. It wouldn’t sound out of place if I’d replaced it with ‘nearly became a giant spider’s lunch’ or ‘almost got caught by demons and melted alive,’ would it?

Those two months were wretched.

“Um, I think I’ll head back to the barracks first…”

“Ahem!”

I even flew through the sky today on that damned Dajin’s back, no less.

Through a battlefield sky swarming with demons, all hell-bent on tearing me apart!

Would you even begin to understand the feeling of soaring five hundred meters above ground on the back of an electric stag? Hundreds of spells hurtling towards me, while the young deer carrying me didn’t bat an eye at any of it…

Could you even dare to imagine that anxiety, that dread?

Therefore, you have an obligation to listen to my tale.

You were the ones who incited me by saying you liked my music.

Now take responsibility.

Even if you stare at me with faces that scream, ‘Why are you doing this to us,’ I won’t show any mercy.

You just walked right into it.

“And… ahem, hem!”

Had I talked for almost twenty minutes straight? My throat felt severely swollen.

The surrounding air was already thick, and with my devastatingly low stamina stat on top of that, even opening my mouth felt beyond my control.

I hadn’t even explained a tenth of the philosophy within my music yet…

“Ah, finished? That took a while.”

“…Really? Wow. What happened next?”

Bell, as if her mind had wandered elsewhere for a time, turned eyes that had been blankly staring at the fire back to me and asked that.

Grisha… perhaps he’d dozed off for a moment, let out a soulless reaction in a hoarse voice.

“…I’ll stop here for now.”

I said, touching my cracked throat with a hand.

These worn-down veterans probably had at least ten more ways to ignore someone who rambled on all day about a topic they didn’t care about.

“Eh, tsk.”

These guys aren’t any fun.

I’ll have to bother Lirna later.

“Then, I’ll get up first.”

My interest flagging, I picked up my empty bowl and stood. I was full, my throat hurt, so I thought I’d slowly go get some sleep.

“Oh, right.”

As I stood, Bell lifted her head as if realizing something, and opened her mouth towards me.

“That kid, Add, broke.”

…What’s *that* supposed to mean?

* * *

I stood the guitar against the wall, next to my cot, then quietly slipped outside.

From there, I headed toward the barracks where my comrades, including Ad, were stationed.

“Ad, the kid, he’s broken.”

I couldn’t quite grasp the meaning of Bell’s words.

It couldn’t simply mean a broken bone or two. Fractures were minor injuries, mended in less than a minute by the clerics deployed on this battlefield.

Bell wouldn’t have bothered reporting something like that to me.

And so, I went to the barracks to find out precisely what Bell had meant when he said those words.

“Sir Vinn!”

The moment I pulled aside the tent flap, a bright voice echoed in my ears.

Inside, even indoors, the elf, Lir, wore a wide-brimmed hat pulled low, and she came down from her cot and walked toward me the moment she saw me.

“You’ve arrived?”

“Lir, would you care to hear about my musical philosophy?”

“Huh?”

Lir wore an expression that said she didn’t understand what I was talking about.

I wanted to test how quickly that face could fill with worry and pain, but alas, my throat wasn’t in the best condition right now.

“…Never mind. Where’s Ad?”

“Ah.”

The blossoming smile that had bloomed so brightly on her face withered, frosting over the instant she heard Ad’s name.

…I figured the two of them wouldn’t get along, but I hadn’t anticipated such open distaste.

“And him, why?”

“Just… I heard something broke. If the injury’s bad enough, they’ll send him back to the capital.”

“Broke where? The Holy Maiden’s treatment seemed to have healed almost everything. Anyway, Ed left the barracks maybe twenty minutes ago.”

Alter, who had been wiping mud off his staff and ring, chimed in on my conversation with Lir.

I nodded and quickly greeted them both. After all, Ed was the reason I’d come all this way.

Lir looked disappointed that I was already leaving, and Alter told me that he would be sending new notes through an officer soon, and that I shouldn’t slack off on my studies.

Neither of them seemed as mentally broken or consumed by despair as the other soldiers.

…Then again, it’s only been three days since arriving in Valerand. Maybe that’s to be expected.

“Well, get some rest.”

With a light final greeting, I closed the barracks door behind me and started walking through the mud. Looking around, I noticed not only officers but also soldiers sitting around campfires with alcohol or cigarettes in their hands.

They were boasting coarse language and spouting things I couldn’t understand, laughing pointlessly.

‘…It bothers me, what exactly broke?’

“Salute! You must be the new General, General Bean.”

Just as I was thinking, ‘Should I take a look around where the wounded soldiers are gathered?’ I heard a voice I didn’t recognize from the corner of my eye.

“Huh? Ah, yes. Salute.”

It was an officer holding a pipe. His name… I don’t remember. I’ve seen him reporting to Bel countless times, but this was the first time I was talking to him directly.

“A pleasure to meet you, Captain.”

…Was he a Captain? I can’t even remember that properly.

“Wow, I heard you bought all the cigarettes, alcohol… even meat out of your own pocket this time. Thanks to you, the morale of the soldiers who were hitting rock bottom has risen somewhat.”

The officer, who had a medal pinned to his chest, gave me a slightly off-kilter smile as he thanked me.

It would seem he was indeed the Captain.

“And that performance today! Riding that sky-borne deer, striking down lightning – it was a spectacle straight out of myth or fairytale. For the first time in ages, I could feel hope stirring in the soldiers’ eyes. Ha ha ha!”

Though the words were welcome, his laughter rang with a broken quality, making them hard to accept at face value.

“It’s a relief that the soldiers’ morale has lifted, even a little.”

“We only had one suicide today! But judging by the state of decomposition, it seems we belatedly discovered a corpse that took its life about a week ago. So, strictly speaking, there were no suicides today! Ha ha!”

“……”

Uh.

Hm.

Right.

Hey buddy. Turn on your blinker before you cut in like that.

“Well anyway… say, do you happen to know Private Edd? He’s my personal guard, and I heard he broke something, so I was just checking on his condition. He’s the one with the hair sticking up like a chestnut burr.”

I wrestled with how to respond, then decided to change the subject.

I didn’t want to spend much time talking to someone who could discuss such heavy matters with the tone of ‘No one died! Yippee! Wahaha!’

No, okay, it’s a relief that no one died. Still, it’s a bit frightening, isn’t it? I just can’t see that being a suitable topic for such hearty laughter.

“Ah, I saw him earlier, smoking. He was talking to Sergeant Rex over there, on that little hill.”

I greeted the Captain, who seemed to have a few screws loose, and quickly followed his directions toward the low hill.

I didn’t have the nerve to spend much time alone with him.

Ugh, chills.

As he pointed out, I passed through the large barracks area where the officers stayed, and a forest of rotten wood, blocked by a tall dirt hill, stretched out before my eyes.

‘…He’s up there? Why would Edd, a guy who supposedly broke something, climb such a high hill?’

I sighed once, then began to slowly ascend the mud hill.

I’d learned a trick or two handling this cumbersome body of mine; instead of climbing straight up, I went at a slight angle, changing direction every so often.

A direct ascent was too steep, my legs would ache in no time, but going diagonally made the incline a bit gentler.

This, you see, is the wisdom gained in my second life…

“Are you planning to desert or something?”

‘Huh?’

My ears, filled with such useless thoughts of second-life wisdom, were assaulted by Rex’s impassioned shout.

“I am.”

And answering that impassioned shout was Ad.

…Just what in the world is happening up there?